Stromgall sat reading an ancient book; perched precariously on his stool, unaware of his on looking apprentice. Jessin was sure the old man had no real need of her. It had been nearly an hour since she had been called in. He had, at that time, done little more than glance at her and return to his scrolls upon her entrance. More than once she had thought him either dead or asleep. If not for a long wiry hand that occasionally shot out of the folds of his coat to turn the page, she would have confirmed her assessment.

She considered the possibility of escape: “I could probably edge my way to the door without being noticed. It’s not like anyone else notices me.” She considered wallowing in a fit of self pity sparked by this most recent thought. Instead she returned to her original motive of finding an exit. “Sure as I get up the old geezer will see me. He’ll likely put me to work on some worthless study of the soul or an even more fruitless activity.” Unable to think of another reason to complain, Jessin decided to pick apart the flaws in Stromgall himself. His pencil thin frame curled over the book like a hungry carrion bird devouring the stolen fruits of someone else’s labor.“Just look at him!” she said to herself “What kind of half -wit wastes his time with books and learning when the Order provides us with all the knowledge we need? And his clothes! What’s with the dark age material? He called it something... cot-cottin. Whatever it was it was stupid. Draping all around him like a sack. Why use that when you could use the sensible fabric the Order gives us?” She searched his person for something else to pick apart.

He darted a cool, penetrating glare at her over the rim of his spectacles, as though he had heard her thoughts. She stared back for a moment. “There it is.” She thought with satisfaction. “Those stupid goggles. Why does he wear those? Worthless things; an optic enhancement could solve his problem permanently but he insists on using some hideous and long-dead instrument of the past.” She shook herself from the grasp his eyes held, averting her own to a table in the corner. It was piled haphazardly with books, boxes, bottles, and a whole slew of things she couldn’t identify.

Her bogus interest in the corner table faded fast. Finally she could take it no longer. “What do you need me for Uncle Stromgall?” she said with an edge of annoyance.

He calmly removed his glasses and rubbed slowly at the bridge of his nose. “Jessin,” he said as though she’d just walked in. “How are you today?”

“Just fine thank you.” She spoke with strained politeness.

”I need you to deliver a message for me Jessin. I need you to take it to Gregory,” he said slowly as if talking to one much younger than Jessin’s sixteen years. He produced a letter from somewhere within the folds of his coat. “Now I want you to be very careful with this.” He continued, handing her the soft piece of parchment.

She turned it over in her hands absently as she walked toward the door. Her uncle was still giving her instructions, but she wasn’t about to slow for yet another never-ending lecture. “OK,” she said slamming the door behind her.

She traversed a for a while through the din of main row watching the marketplace on her right as the sleek hovercars flew by her on the left. She wandered into “Twice Tolde” and the pulse of the city fell away behind her. It was a quiet little shop where she went to be alone. The wooden motif had a way of lulling her from the hardened mood the rest of the city’s cold steel design tended to provide. Oddly enough it was her nerve-grating uncle that had introduced her to the place.

She ordered a cup of Gulgo and sipped on it as she opened the letter.“Rats,” she thought as she saw the old English script. ”Why doesn’t he just use the common text like everyone else? At least it’s short.” Still she tried to read it. “Der Gre-Gregory,” she tried to sound out the words softly aloud “tank yo for...”. She couldn’t read some of it. “I appreetiat... bring yor results... urgent!” She knew her pronunciation must be wrong but she thought she had the gist of it. Besides, she didn’t feel like working that hard just to read some stupid note. She decided to put the delivery off until after she’d finished her drink.